


The Things We Struggle For

by amycarey



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Gen, Unrequited Love, post-4.02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2418554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amycarey/pseuds/amycarey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I’m staying with Mom tonight,” Henry says over the phone, his voice obscured by poor reception. “Maybe for the rest of the week. She shouldn’t be alone and I’ve really missed her.” Emma doesn’t expect to feel so lost and the baby is shrieking intermittently and she tosses and turns and can’t sleep and before she knows it, she has boots and a jacket on over her pyjamas and she’s in the bug.</i>
</p><p>Emma seeks forgiveness and chooses herself and comes to terms with a great many things. Post-episode feelings blergh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things We Struggle For

“I’m staying with Mom tonight,” Henry says over the phone, his voice obscured by poor reception. “Maybe for the rest of the week. She shouldn’t be alone and I’ve really missed her.” Emma doesn’t expect to feel so lost and the baby is shrieking intermittently and she tosses and turns and can’t sleep and before she knows it, she has boots and a jacket on over her pyjamas and she’s in the bug.

 

Even for Maine it’s unseasonably cold. Probably something to do with the wall of ice surrounding the town. Emma shivers in the bug, wrapping her jacket around herself. There’s a light on in the Regina’s house still – and not Henry’s bedroom – and Emma isn’t going to leave until the light goes out, until she knows that Regina has gone to bed. She looks at her cell phone. One o’clock. And Regina’s still awake.

 

It really is freezing.

 

Steeling herself, she gets out of the car and runs, boots clomping, up to Regina’s door. She knocks and after a moment where the only sound is of her teeth chattering, she hears footsteps. The door opens. Regina is holding a fireball in one hand, ready to throw it.

 

“Go away, Ms Swan,” she says. “If you weren’t the sheriff, I would request a restraining order.”

 

“I’m worried about you,” Emma replies.

 

“Worry about yourself, dear,” Regina says, speaking in the crisp clear tones of someone trying to pretend she is not intoxicated. Emma can smell scotch. “Now, leave, before I change my mind and throw this fireball at you.”

 

“Regina, I’m…” But the door is slammed shut in her face. “Sorry,” she says to the closed door and trudges back to her car.

 

*

 

“You have to stop worrying about her, love.” Killian says. They’re at the new ice cream parlour (Snow said it came over in the last curse and it’s not like Emma knows any different) and he’s drinking a milkshake, which she’s pretty sure he laced with rum from his hipflask. “She’s made of stern stuff. She’ll get through this.”

 

“She shouldn’t have to _get through this_ ,” Emma says through gritted teeth. Does he ever change his clothes? The leather coat is starting to grate and she can’t help but think of Regina’s own leather jacket, the night everything was ruined. It would make a good magazine article: who wore it better? For herself, she’s inclined to think Regina.

 

Killian sighs. “You’re never at home, you follow after her like a lost little puppy, and we’ve not had a single _real_ date yet. It’s growing tiresome, Swan.”

 

“So is that jacket,” she snaps. “Don’t you ever change?” She stands and storms out of the diner, leaving as Robin, Marian and Roland enter. She brushes past Marian.

 

“Emma, are you quite well?” Marian asks, placing a hand on the arm of her woollen coat.

 

“I’m just perfect,” she says, pulling her beanie down over her ears. “Got to get back to the station.”

 

She’s pleased to see that David isn’t there. In the mood she’s in, she’s not sure she would be able to stop herself from snapping at him. He’s ebullient at the moment, in love with being a father, in love with Emma’s burgeoning relationship with Killian, in love with a town with a quest once more. He doesn’t have room in his brain to worry about Regina. She sits at her desk, dragging out her paper work and getting down to completing it. Momentarily, she considers the fact that if she doesn’t complete it, Regina will have to come down here and berate her.

 

But Regina isn’t mayor anymore and so Emma gets to work on filing reports.

 

*

 

“I didn’t know,” she says. “I honestly didn’t know.” A week has gone past and she’s dropping Henry off at Regina’s and, for the sake of Henry, Regina has not slammed the door in Emma’s face – though she is still not allowed further than the doormat.

 

“You think I’m just angry about that, Ms Swan?”

 

“Well, aren’t you?”

 

“Go away. Think about it. Give your brain a workout. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She smiles, though there’s no mirth in it. “Come, Henry. I made _jibarito_ for lunch.”  She holds out a hand and Henry takes it, grimacing at Emma.

 

She drives back to her parents’ apartment. Snow is on the couch, nursing the baby, and smiles when Emma enters. “Darling, sit with me.” The baby gurgles away at her breast. Emma sits.

 

“How was Regina?” Snow asks. Emma will never understand their relationship and she has mostly made peace with that.

 

“Angry,” Emma says. “Understandably. She didn’t threaten me with a fireball so that’s progress, I guess.” She laughs and the baby’s lips let go of Snow’s nipple to stare at Emma and smile up at her. Emma strokes his downy head; he’s a cute thing, her little brother. “She said it’s not just Marian she’s mad about.”

 

“Well, she’s obviously still angry that you were planning to take Henry away,” Snow says as though this is obvious. She adjusts herself and the baby latches on to her other breast.

 

“Shit,” Emma mutters. “Shit shit shit.”

 

“Don’t swear in front of Neal,” Snow admonishes and Emma tries hard not to wince at the name.

 

*                                        

 

Killian arrives at the door when Emma has just ordered Chinese for the family because when Henry’s at Regina’s she can relax the ‘good food’ rules. “Swan,” he says. “This isn’t a bad time, is it?”

 

“Of course not,” David says. “Stay for dinner, Hook.”

 

“I already ordered,” Emma says.

 

“You ordered enough for ten, honey,” Snow says. “Come in, Killian.”

 

They’re all so happy to see him, the man who rescued her from the frozen fortress – even though as far as she can tell he hacked ineffectually at the ice with his hook and then Elsa managed to gain control of her powers. Even the baby gurgles happily when Killian leans across the crib, his necklaces dangling in his face. “Hello, little Neal,” he coos, sticking a finger into the crib.

 

“He’ll make such a good daddy,” Snow whispers to Emma. Elsa, who has been sitting at their table reading up on the history of Storybrooke, looks up at Snow’s too-loud whisper and pulls a face.

 

“My son has all the parents he needs,” Emma snaps.

 

“Are you okay?” Snow asks, wrapping an arm around Emma, but she shrugs it off and disappears upstairs into the tiny room that is her one refuge. She’s never felt more like a moody teenager than in this moment. She sits on the single bed, hands clenched against the duvet and taking deep breaths, pushing away a panic attack.

 

There’s a knock at the door and Killian enters. “Swan, love. What’s wrong?”

 

“Have you ever felt like everyone else is more enthusiastic about the stuff going on in your life than you are?”

 

“I’m not sure I understand,” Killian says. “Is this about us?”

 

“I don’t…” She pauses. “I don’t think there is an us, Killian. I think I’ve just been going along with it.”

 

To his credit, he doesn’t try and persuade her and she’s never liked him more. He cannot, however, resist one final sarcastic remark over his shoulder. “I hope you’ll be very happy with her,” he says and leaves.

 

“What?” She stares at the closed door, bewildered.

 

*

 

She goes for a run the next morning, the frigid air forcing her to keep moving and her breath coming out in clouds. She’d called it dragon’s breath when she was a kid until a boy in a foster home she was at made fun of her. She’d punched him in the mouth, making him bleed and labelling her as ‘troubled’, a synonym for ‘unadoptable’.

 

She’s down at the waterfront when she sees Regina sitting on one of the benches, arms wrapped around herself. Even from this distance, Emma can see that her nose is red with cold. She’s staring out at sea. Emma contemplates running but she’s done with that now, she has to be, so she jogs forward. “Hey, Regina,” she says. “Mind if I join?”

 

Regina does not answer, just continues staring at the sea. Emma takes her lack of response as assent and sits on the next bench over. “I’m sorry,” she says.

 

“I am so tired of hearing that,” Regina says. Her nose is red with cold and still does not look at Emma.

 

“I miss you,” Emma says.

 

Regina turns to look at her and it’s not anger in her eyes but sorrow. “I’m surprised you haven’t run yet.”

 

“I’m trying this new thing where I don’t do that anymore,” she says.

 

“If you ever consider running with my son again, I will hunt you down, Ms Swan,” Regina says, venom on her tongue. “I will hunt you down and I will destroy you.”

 

“Right,” Emma says. “Got it.” She gets up and keeps running and, in doing so, bumps into Elsa who must have left the house even earlier than Emma. She’s discovered modern clothing, though Emma couldn’t get her into trousers and her floaty skirt and sleeveless shirt would be giving anyone else a serious case of hypothermia. She paces by the pier. “You okay?” Emma asks.

 

“Fine,” she says, twisting her hands together. “I just, felt out of control when I woke up. Didn’t want to freeze out the loft. I miss Anna.” The ground below her frosts over as she paces. “Who helps you when you can’t control your magic?”

 

Emma shrugs and then she really thinks. “Regina,” she says. “Regina helps me.”

 

“Henry’s mother?” Elsa asks. “It’s such a pity for him that you split up with her.”

 

“We were never together,” Emma says and why does her stomach feel ready to revolt and why does her heart beat faster? Killian never made her feel that way. With Killian it was easier to keep saying ‘yes’ because he tried so hard and wanted so much and she was tired. But he made her feel smaller. Being around Regina used to make her feel like she could conquer galaxies. She misses that.

 

*

 

So Marian is frozen and all seems hopeless and then Robin kisses her and she thaws, her skin darkening from frost white to brown, and the gathered crowd coos. “True love after all,” Granny says just a bit too loudly. Emma sees Regina in that moment and her eyes pool with tears and emotional devastation is wrought into her face. As Robin and Marian embrace, Robin’s hands tracing the features of his wife’s face like he doesn’t ever want to forget them, she turns and stalks away.

 

Emma follows her.

 

She keeps several paces behind her and either Regina doesn’t notice or doesn’t care enough to stop her and they keep walking until Regina reaches the ice wall at the town boundary. She curls up against the wall, hands scrabbling and clutching at the ice. She’s shivering and Emma feels powerless to stop her. Regina looks up and sees her. “Go away, Ms Swan.”

 

It’s at the sound of Regina’s torn and chattering voice that Emma rushes forward and grabs Regina’s hands, pale with cold, and rubs them between her own. Two of her fingers are bleeding where she has scrapped them against the ice. “Don’t hurt yourself then. Not for him. Not for anyone.”

 

Regina cries then, deep gulping sobs even as she struggles free herself from her but Emma pulls her up and holds her close and eventually Regina stops resisting and lets herself cry into Emma’s shoulder and she strokes Regina’s hair in a way she imagines Regina might have stroked Henry’s once, when he was hurt or scared or sad; the way that she sometimes feels like she stroked Henry’s hair, thanks to Regina and the happy ending she gave them.

 

And soon Regina’s shivering stops.

 

“You can make your own choices now,” Emma says. “No fate or pixie dust or coercion. Just you.”

 

Regina’s lip quivers. “It was so much easier.”

 

“Sometimes,” Emma says, thinking of Killian, “the things we have to struggle for are better.”

 

“Perhaps,” Regina says and she glances at Emma and Emma could imagine that if this were a romantic comedy (she watched a lot back when Snow was Mary Margaret) Regina would recognise that Emma was truly the one for her, fall into her arms and kiss her. But this is real life and the things we struggle for are better in the end.

 

And for now this, just this, feels like it could be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote chunks of this before season three started and I ended up having a bizarre amount of feelings about episode two, despite really not enjoying it. So this happened.


End file.
